Origins

When I tell people that I grew up at the dump, people look at me in shock and bewilderment. It's true though. At the end of our driveway was the entrance to the National Serve-All landfill. My sister and I used to pick off and eat wild berries from the trees that were the natural fence which separated our drive from the landfill's man-made entryway to the dumping area where the trucks would gather to take their collections of trash each week. Needless to say, I came from humble beginnings.

Can you believe I honestly thought that everyone ate tortillas and menudo until I learned that not everyone did? My parents used to be Mexican-American migrant workers who sought the American dream just like anyone else longing to have a chance at fulfilling dreams that didn't even seem possible.

So much so, that it was up to me to decide that I would learn how to speak, read, and write Spanish and learn about traditions that I did not grow up with. Through my parents' own life experiences, and justifiably so, they would teach their five children only English after recounting their stories of the struggles of being Mexican-American only knowing how to speak Spanish in a Conservative state that controlled where they would sit on a bus and which water fountain they would be allowed to drink from. 

My passion for helping others came from my mother. I understood the decisions my parents made throughout my younger years were a direct result of their personal experiences and perceptions of what was "right" in order to make our life experiences easier than theirs.

Taking their stories with me would fuel various hard-knock choices I made throughout the years. Nonetheless, these hard-knock choices would lead to creating the foundation of learning what I needed in order to learn how to break a cycle. I look back to simply remember what life used to be like. And it makes me thankful to be alive today. I no longer question the obstacles I've faced because I realize that it's all about the journey of putting an end to a cycle of pain. 

We all live with baggage that needs to be unpacked. Survival typically leads us to stow it away until a date that has yet to be determined. Throughout my experience, people have come to me about life threatening situations, racism, domestic violence, drugs, rape, alcoholism, you name it. Much of which I have been exposed to and experienced in my own 38 years of life.

But I realize that all of the things that I have experienced are a part of my story. And the life that I have lived will become a part of my history. Advocating for others is only part of this equation. Within the layers of baggage are children whose life is a masterpiece that takes time to create. 

We are like rocks, you know. A rock must endure the brunt of human influence. We become part of a foundation that builds the future. Each of us has our own rock to contribute to the pile of influence that becomes part of the solid structure, as a person who is a source of consistent support for the greater good of humanity. 

We are part of the transformation that will help break a cycle if we so choose this to be a part of our life mission.